Michael Endbridge's Choice
by MorbidMan
Summary: Michael Endbridge is filled with this compulsion to kill all wizards one day at Hogwarts, so he brings a deadly package to the school. However, he begins to change his mind about killing them. He must now make a choice: will he kill the students or not?


**_Harry Potter_  
**  
**Michael Endbridge's Choice**  
  
_Chapter One: The Beginning of the Fifth Year_  
  
Michael was from America. His parents had moved to England because of a job offering his father had gotten. He wasn't quite certain how much money a year the job offered, but it must've been a hell of a lot for them to move across the ocean for him to earn that salary.  
  
Michael Endbridge was from a muggle family--a mud-blood family as Draco Malfoy would've put it--so it was quite a shock when his eleventh birthday hit and a curious letter arrived in the mail. At first they had all thought it was just a practical joke… but when something reminiscent of what happened to Harry and his family happened to them, they began to accept it as truth. It wasn't an easy thing to do, mind you, it was very difficult for them to abandon what they had thought their entire lives.  
  
The first couple of years at Hogwarts were strange for Michael, having to adapt to the ways of non-muggles. He did bring a small television and a VCR with some movies along for the second year, keeping them powered with a spell he had read in a book. He was in the Gryffindor house and amazed some wizards with his muggle technology while entertaining those who had been raised as muggles with his knowledge of American media. Movie after movie was watched night after night.  
  
He watched as those around him flocked to watch his television in wonder and awe. He watched them do things that amazed him and left him with his mouth agape. Michael Endbridge felt his mind deteriorating.  
  
Surrounded by nearly a dozen wizards, Michael watched "American Beauty". The wizards who had been raised wizards had no idea what most of the things in the movie were (Rickey's video camera, the cars, and the phones to name a few), and no idea why the people in the pictures shown in the movie didn't move around. Those raised by muggles explained to the wizards what those things were and why the people didn't move. It was amidst all of this that Michael decided what he had to do.  
  
"They're too different, kill them all," he mouthed to himself. That's when he began to formulate his plan: one year before he put it to action.  
  
  
  
Platform 9 ¾ is where Michael first came into real contact with the famous Harry Potter. He had just said farewell to his mother for the last time; he didn't think he'd ever see her again. His father was off at work on some project at work and wasn't able to see him off.  
  
Michael's larger bag (the one that held all of the equipment he would need) got caught in the doorway as he walked up the train's staircase.  
  
Harry, Ron, and Hermoine were the only people trying to get through that way, so he wasn't causing a big commotion at all. As Michael struggled to hurry along, Harry came up.  
  
"Hey," he said. Michael turned to face him. Harry was amazed that no form of amazement crossed his face… and that Michael didn't sneak a glance at the scar on his forehead. "Want some help with that?"  
  
"Sure," Michael replied. He was surprised that his bag had become stuck at all. It wasn't that thick--well, not bulging out into the shape of a sphere anyway--and it was silk. Wasn't silk supposed to be slippery? The staircase must've been narrower than he had thought because the bag was stuck.  
  
Harry grabbed the back.  
  
"We should probably tip it onto its side," he stated. "We should hurry up because the train's about to leave."  
  
Michael didn't know yet that it was Harry Potter he was speaking to because of one simple thing: he had no idea who Harry was. He had never heard of Voldemort either. He had heard Harry's name last year when he was in the competition and he had heard students whispering of someone named 'You-Know-Who' in the hallways, but that was it.  
  
"Yeah," Michael replied politely. His voice was that of an adult's, and the same went for his face, which looked ten years older than its age. He was fifteen, yet he looked twenty-five at a brief glance. The image that he was an adult was furthered, also, by the fact that he was almost six feet tall.  
  
They then tilted it onto its side. It slammed down onto the stairs and the blood drained from Michael's face. He hadn't expected that to happen. When the bag didn't explode or anything, the blood flowed through him again and he pulled it up while Harry pushed. Ron and Hermoine looked like they wanted to help, too, but there was no room for them to squeeze through to help.  
  
The train left the station when Michael, Harry, Ron, and Hermoine all sat down in their cubby. Since Michael had only a couple of friends who pretended not to know him in public, he had no one to sit with. For that reason Michael asked if he could sit with the three of them.  
  
Harry was dreading the year that laid ahead of him because he knew that Voldemort would come after him again, and that there would be more bloodshed. He was right about that.  
  
"What have you got in that big bag, anyway?" Ron asked after a few minutes of silence. "Everything?"  
  
Michael looked at him dully and then nodded.  
  
"All your clothes and books?"  
  
Michael shook his head slowly. That was a lie; his clothes were in the bag that his books were in. "My books are in a different bag," he informed Ron and then took the bag that had been hanging from his shoulder by a strap off. He then put it on the floor, which had practically no space available because of his other bag.  
  
"What about that TV you always bring with you?" Hermoine asked. She had seen a couple of movies that he had watched while eating breakfast in the main Gryffindor room.  
  
"Still at the school. Professor Dumbledore lets me keep it there so that I don't have to go through a lot to transport it there."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Where's all of your stuff?" he asked all three of them.  
  
"In the storage compartment," they all replied simultaneously and then smiled.  
  
Michael looked down at his own bags.  
  
"Wish I'd known there was one of those."  
  
Harry and Ron burst out in laughter while Hermoine only smiled. Several minutes of silence went by, and then the cart came by with the snack foods.  
  
Harry bought a Chocolate Frog and Ron bought the Every Flavored Beans. Hermoine and Michael didn't get anything.  
  
"What's your name, anyway?" Ron asked after eating a bean that tasted like urine and grimacing.  
  
"Michael Endbridge," Michael replied. He was silent for a second. "You?"  
  
"Ron Weasley."  
  
Hermoine looked at him. "Hermoine Granger."  
  
Harry sighed. "Do I really need to tell you who I am?"  
  
Michael raised an eyebrow. "Why wouldn't you?"  
  
Harry lowered the Chocolate Frog he had been eating. "You don't know who I am?" he asked with a tone of disbelief.  
  
Michael shook his head. "Should I?"  
  
Harry smiled. "I like him already," he told Ron and Hermoine. "My name's Harry Potter."  
  
Harry then held his hand out for Michael to shake. Michael did so. "Is the name familiar to you?" Harry asked.  
  
"I might've heard it before, but it isn't really familiar."  
  
"You're awesome!" Harry exclaimed.  
  
Michael looked at Hermoine and then Ron, wondering what was with Harry. They both shrugged despite the fact that they did know what was with Harry: he was happy that he had run into someone who didn't know who he was because the attention was killing him.  
  
That was when Malfoy popped in to ruin Harry's good mood.  
  
"Potter, Weasley, mud blood," Malfoy barely finished before Ron leapt at him in Hermoine's defense. Hermoine didn't really care about being called a 'mud blood', but Ron didn't care; he didn't want his friends being insulted.  
  
Ron tripped over Michael's big bag and tumbled Malfoy's feet. Malfoy subsequently laughed.  
  
"Just like you," he then said after laughing. "At our feet. You and your family are nothing but a bunch of money lacking bastards."  
  
Ron's face was glaring red with fury.  
  
"And you will have to suck cocks for money, Weasley, because that's all that you and your family are worth."  
  
Ron just laid there on the floor for a long time as Malfoy grinned at him. "You want to start your career now? I'd love to see what you got."  
  
"Shut up Malfoy!" Hermoine shouted at Malfoy suddenly. Harry was up on his feet with his wand pointed, same with Hermoine. Malfoy looked at the two wands with not a trace of fear. He then drew his own wand.  
  
"I know spells that you don't, Potter. Dangerous spells. I highly doubt that you would have the counter spells… or you, you nice piece of ass you--" he was looking at Hermoine now. "--so back off like good bitches."  
  
Michael started laughing.  
  
"What's your problem?" Malfoy asked him, pulled back to the world from his moment of power. "Why are you laughing? Stop it."  
  
Michael did so. Of course, as soon as he did he was up on his feet, snatching Malfoy's wand, snapping it in two, and slamming Malfoy's head against the doorframe so hard that Malfoy's ear began to bleed.  
  
"JESUS CHRIST!" Malfoy shrieked, holding the bottom half of his wand. "WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU!?"  
  
Malfoy then tumbled to the ground. Ron looked with glee from his half-standing position at the asshole that had just been calling him a cock-sucker. He was close to jumping out and grabbing Malfoy to not just rough him up, but to kill him, when Michael slid the cubby door shut. He then looked at the other three. Harry and Hermoine were staring at him, dumbstruck.  
  
"What? Haven't you ever seen someone fight without their wand?" he then sat back down.  
  
The feelings that had surged through him the year before were diminishing. He no longer felt such a great compulsion to kill them all. He felt a great compulsion to abandon his plans. No, correction, he had abandoned his plans.  
  
"Good job," Harry said simply and gave him a thumbs up.  
  
" 'You nice piece of ass you'?" Hermoine echoed Malfoy. "What a _dick_. About time someone put him in his place… again."  
  
Michael smiled. He had no idea how greatly he was going to hate Malfoy by the end of the year. And he had no idea how many times he would put Malfoy in his place, either. Or for what reasons.  
  
Well, thus began the fifth year of Hogwarts for Harry Potter and his gang of friends, which now included Michael Endbridge.  
  
**()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()**  
  
Hey, MorbidMan here. As you may have guessed, this fic disregards all events that happened in "The Order of the Phoenix", and the ones that follow it.  
  
When I first came up with this story idea it was more humorous, but, since humor is not my choice of genre, I turned it into a much more serious and event-filled story. I hope you enjoyed this first portion of it. Please review, and please keep checking back for updates. And there will be updates.  
  
Disclaimer: Other than the character Michael Endbridge and his parents, none of this belongs to me.  
  
"This is my town. This is my street. This is my life. I'm forty-two years old and in less than a year I will be dead. Of course, I don't know that yet. And… in a way… I'm dead already." - Lester Burnham narrating "American Beauty" 


End file.
